


Legacy

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Claustrophobia, F/M, Gen, Mind Control, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke goes into the Deep Roads to seek out Corypheus, bringing Anders with her. Things do not go well for him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from anon on tumblr: "I know you have LOTS of promps and drabble to write, so feel free to ignore this, kay? :) I really like the new head canon of what Cory was doing to Anders mind in Legacy. Do you think you can do a short drabble of what must have been going on in his head when it starts to happen and when he reaches his breaking point? :("
> 
> Given what we find out about Corypheus in Inquisition, and what he's capable of, I think this gives us a pretty good idea of what was actually going on in Anders' head during this quest.

Anders hated the Deep Roads. That wasn’t exactly a secret, not to anyone in the party. He hadn’t planned on revealing his claustrophobia and fear of the dark to anyone, not even Hawke, but that was made difficult by his insistence to come along on the expedition all those years ago. He’d known it was something he probably couldn’t handle, but he couldn’t have let her go down there without a Warden. It wasn’t right. Though having the only Warden in the party have a panic attack partway through didn’t exactly help anyone, and led to the discomfort of everyone finding out about some of his deepest fears.

And now, here they were again, and the way back had just been sealed by some magical ward he couldn’t remove. The mage tried to breathe, but there wasn’t enough air, and his lungs seemed only capable of taking in short, shallow gasps, his chest too tight for more. No, this was fine. He would be alright. This wasn’t the same as that cell. He had friends here, Hawke, all of that. He’d braved the Deep Roads before, countless times, and always come out in one piece. This was no worse than the last time, and they’d been fine, even after Bartrand had left them to die. There was space, more than usual, at least, and that was a good thing. This was okay. _But oh Maker, there was no way out, they were trapped, they were going to die, with all this stone between them and outside, in this small, dark –_

No, he was not going to indulge that thought. Anders squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on trying to get a damn breath in and ignoring the frantic galloping of his heartbeat. He only opened them when he felt a hand curl around his clammy one, squeezing gently, and he looked up to find Hawke watching him, worry written in her eyes. Clearly, he’d let his panic show too much.

“I’m fine, love.” He said, though the breathy tone of his voice betrayed him.

“I know you’re not.” She said quietly, hoping the others wouldn’t hear her.

He offered her a wan smile. “I will be. Once we get out of here.”

“I know. But to get out, we have to keep going, okay? I’m here with you, just remember that.” She said, patiently.

He nodded, marvelling at how she was _still_ putting up with him. Even though he was incapable of handling the very thing he was perfectly suited for – Wardens and Deep Roads went hand in hand, after all – she was still as patient and caring as she had always been. It was truly astounding, something he was equal parts amazed by and thankful for every single day.

They started walking again, Anders’ breathing and heart rate still erratic, and Varric lapsed into some amusing tale as if on cue. It helped, though, and the healer could finally think enough to realize he was holding Hawke’s hand so tightly her fingers had probably gone numb. He relaxed his grip then, but she didn’t say a word, allowing him whatever he needed to feel safe.

The conversation with that poor fellow Larius had not been good for Anders’ nerves, either. Nothing like a blatant reminder of his future to make a bad situation worse. Every Warden feared the Calling, Anders especially, but seeing what would happen to him if he didn’t die alone in the Deep Roads? That was worse. Definitely worse. He’d tried to forget that this was a reality of his life, but there was no ignoring it now. Not after seeing that.

“I’ve tried to forget about this side of myself. Justice is… so strong. Sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant. But seeing that poor bastard brings it all back. The Darkspawn taint. The call of the Archdemon. It’s inside me, as much a part of me as Justice.” Anders found himself saying, almost babbling to fill the eerie silence.

“It’s never bothered me before. I knew you were a Warden when we met.” Hawke added, to Anders’ surprise.

“You should find someone else, love. You don’t want all the ugliness I’m going to bring into your life.” He continued, seemingly unable to stop talking. It was probably just because he was so on edge, and talking helped, even if the subject matter wasn’t pleasant.

“Not a chance.” was all Hawke offered for an answer, her hand squeezing his again to reassure him.

It was comforting, he had to admit. Even if he still felt guilty about bringing all this unpleasantness into her life. But that was something they could worry about once they were back on the surface, no longer trapped in this – no, that’s not a good place either. Anders forced himself to focus on Hawke, the feel of her hand in his. It helped.

As they descended, the mage felt… strange. Beyond the anxiety that was one step away from becoming panic, there was a… buzzing, in his mind. The Deep Roads meant darkspawn, he knew that, but they felt different, somehow. Usually it was sort of like the hum of a crowded bar; too many conversations converging into a gentle hum of white noise. He could pick out individuals if he focused, or if they got closer, but it was fairly easy to ignore, especially after years of practice.

But this was… something else. It was like a scratching inside his skull, making it hard for him to think. It almost sounded like whispering that was just barely too quiet to hear, making his mind strain in an attempt to understand it. It was distracting, to say the least.

As they finished killing the first Guardian, the whispering was getting clearer. Anders still couldn’t understand exactly what it was saying, but some words were popping out. ‘Blood’, ‘Hawke’, ‘die’, and ‘free’ were all he could make out. He could feel something _pulling_ on him, telling him to do… something. Something bad? Something that would hurt Hawke? His mouth went dry. _No_.

“I’m not listening… I’m not listening!” He found himself muttering, trying to force the whispers out of his mind.

“Anders?” Hawke asked, voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“The abomination’s hearing voices. How unexpected.” Fenris chimed him.

Anders turned to see Hawke whirl on the elf, giving him a glare she usually reserved for people trying to kill one of the members of their little group. That was unexpected. Even though the two disagreed on the concept of mages, they actually had quite the friendship; one Anders had always been surprised, and slightly annoyed, by.

“You’re not helping.” The rogue nearly growled through clenched teeth.

Hawke’s hand found his again, and the healer took a breath. She shouldn’t be so close to him. He never should’ve come down here, but he thought he was protecting her. How could he have known he might become more dangerous than anything else they might find?

They kept descending, and the whispering got worse. It was now a steady stream, and he could understand it perfectly.

_The blood of the Hawke is needed. The Hawke must die for I to be free. Only then can the seals be broken._

Those sentences replayed in his mind over and over again. Occasionally there would be other thoughts, ones he didn’t fully understand. An appeal to Dumat, one of the Old Gods, some babbling about blackness and corruption. Perhaps referring to the Blight? Anders didn’t know, and he didn’t rightly care. It was clear whoever was ‘speaking’ to him wanted _him_ to perform this task, and he was _not_ going to hurt Hawke. No matter what this bastard said, it was not going to happen. This Corypheus, or whatever his name was, could drone in his mind forever, but he would not harm the one he loved.

As they made their way through the level, fighting far too many darkspawn and the second Guardian, the whispering got worse, more insistent. The mage could feel it trying to take him over, his mind slipping, not unlike when Justice took control. But instead of the faint taste of the Fade, he was greeted with the acrid flavour of ichor.

“No! Get out of my head!” He cried.

“Anders!” Hawke’s voice was nearly panicked.

“Come on, Blondie. You’re strong enough to overcome this.” Even Varric was worried, which was not a good sign.

The dwarf was right, though. He could hold against this, Anders knew that. He _had_ to. At the back of his mind, Justice was beginning to become concerned by his host’s distress, watching closely, ready to take over if needed. That wasn’t going to help. He just needed to calm down. He could ignore the whispers, the attempts to take control of him, the spirit becoming increasingly alarmed. He had to do it. If he didn’t he might… No, that wasn’t going to happen. He had to fight against this, against them both.

The party continued downward, finally hitting the bottom. This meant that at least they were on their way up and then out, but Anders took no solace in that. The further they went, the worse it got. He started to stumble, his legs not wanting to work right. Even just the effort of moving forward, staying in control, had left him panting, and he had to lean on his staff a bit as he walked. He could feel Justice aiding him, coming just to the edge of his consciousness, when they encountered darkspawn, a sure sign that he was not doing well.

As they kept walking, the whispers and pulling turned to images, filling his vision completely. He saw his hands grab Hawke, roughly, her bones breaking in the struggle that followed. He threw her down on some altar-like thing, something he’d never seen before in his life, and drew the knife from his belt. His mind was screaming, trying to fight it, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t stop this vision. Her beautiful blue eyes looked up at him with a fear he’d never seen in them before, pure terror with hints of betrayal and disbelief. He knelt over her, put the blade to her throat and–

“NO!” He shouted, the vision breaking, and the party stopping to watch him for a moment.

_You will kill her, drain her blood to free me. I command it, so it shall be done. You cannot hold against my will. You will watch the life flow out of her and rejoice, for your master is free._

“Stop! Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!” Anders’ voice sounded ragged, even in his own ears.

“Anders, we’re almost there. It’s okay. You can do this.” Hawke’s said, trying to hide her fear behind a soothing tone as she placed a hand on his arm.

It didn’t work. He moved away from her, trying and failing to be subtle about it. He didn’t deserve her touch, not with what was happening in his mind.

“Hang in there, Blondie! We’re going to get you out of this!” Varric called, shooting a warning glance at Fenris who had opened his mouth as well.

The elf took the warning, deciding not to push it, though the fear on both of their faces was evident. The healer forced himself to keep moving, trailing behind but not stopping. He needed out of here. He just had to hold on until then.

They passed another few broken archways, the path definitely leading up now, when the whispering turned to a shout.

_DO IT! KILL HER! BRING ME THE BLOOD OF THE HAWKE!_

The taste of ichor returned, and Anders doubled over, crying out as he clutched his head in his hands. He could feel a will that was not his tugging at him, his body trying to move of its own accord, his consciousness slipping. Justice surged as well, coming forth like a dog with its hackles raised. The healer swallowed, pushing hard against them both.

“What’s wrong?” Hawke cried, turning around and coming too close.

“I can’t… the voices…” Anders struggled to speak, rocking forward and back to try to calm himself. “W-wardens… the Joining… I have too much taint in my blood. I can’t shut him out.”

The will drawing on the taint in his blood tried to force him to move, and one of his legs stepped forward without his consent, his determination no longer enough to resist. Justice surged again in response, the taste of the Fade mingling with that of the ichor unpleasantly. If he had to lose control, if he had to do this, it was better to lose himself to Justice than this emissary. It had to be. Hawke could handle Justice.

“Help me, love…” The mage managed to get out, before his vision filled with blue, and he was thrust into the dark.

* * *

“I WILL NOT… BE CONTROLLED!” Justice declared as he took over.

When the spirit came, he hit a wall of pure _fear_. The terror blinded him, and he immediately lashed out. Someone was trying to control them, to force them to do things that were unjust, to _hurt_ them. He would not allow this. His host would be safe, and he would see to that himself. He summoned two lesser spirits to help, immediately attacking the three blurs of life ahead of him. One of them was speaking, directly to _him_ , not Anders, but he could not hear them through the haze of panic his host had left him with. He did not know who they were, but he knew they were a threat, and he would not let them take Anders. Justice would protect him. That was all that mattered right now, and he focused on that thought, even as the enemies fought hard, knocked him down, and eventually forced him back into the corners of Anders’ mind.

* * *

When Anders returned, he felt like he’d been kicked by a horse. No, not a horse, a bronto. Or maybe a dragon. Something large. Gazing up from the ground, he saw Hawke staring down at him, breathing heavy, eyes filled with worry. Slowly, he pieced together what had happened. Justice had taken control, and Anders’ fear had caused him to lash out. Hawke must’ve managed to force him back. Guilt washed through him. He’d tried to hurt Hawke anyways, even if the entire point of giving in to the spirit was to avoid that.

“Anders!” She cried, kneeling beside him. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I tried to talk to him, but I don’t think he could even hear me. I didn’t want to harm either of you.”

“I’m fine, really, love. I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you. The voices… they were telling me to hurt you, and I didn’t know how else to stop them. I couldn’t hold against them both…” He turned away, ashamed that this is even a problem they had to deal with.

He felt Hawke wrap her arms tightly around him, and he looked up, puzzled, before returning the embrace. “Anders, it’s okay. This isn’t your fault, or Justice’s, and I swear to you, we are going to find this bastard and kill him. I promise. And then we will be certain he can never force you to do anything.”

The mage let out a little whimper, unable to provide any other answer as he clutched at Hawke, desperately, tears spilling from his eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d been so close to harming her, the one he cared for so much, the one he couldn’t stand to lose. This emissary had to die, and fast, before he tried that again. If this Corypheus could nearly force him to do the one thing he could never stand to do, just what else was he capable of?


End file.
